She Is the Darkness: Book Two of Glittering Stone: A Novel of the Black Company (4 page)

I did not wait long after Thai Dei and I took up quarters in one of the same
buildings we had occupied during the siege. Reconstruction had not reached that
part of town yet. Some of the old litter still lay around. “At least they got
rid of all the bones,” I told Thai Dei.

He grunted, looked around like he expected to see ghosts.

“You be all right here?” I asked. Nyueng Bao do believe in ghosts and spirits
and ancestors who follow you around nagging if you have not gotten them buried
properly. A lot of Nyueng Bao pilgrims passed over here without benefit of the
appropriate ceremonies.

“I must be. I must have everything ready when Doj comes.”

That was a major speech for Thai Dei.

Uncle Doj was a priest of some sort. Presumably he would take this opportunity
to complete what he had not had time to do four years ago.

“You go ahead. I have things to do.” Far places to see. Pain to be given the
slip, though I did not admit that directly even to myself.

Thai Dei started to put his few possessions aside.

“No. It’s more of that secret Company stuff that I’m expected to do alone.”

Thai Dei grunted, almost pleased to have his time be his own.

It always was his but he would not listen when I insisted he did not owe me. If
it were not for me he would not have lost his sister and son.

Arguing with a Nyueng Bao is like arguing with water buffalo. You cannot get
through and after a while the Nyueng Bao loses interest in listening. Might as
well save your energy.

“Wondered how long it would be,” One-Eye said when I tracked him down. He had
brought the wagon into our old part of town but had not taken Smoke out. He had
it backed into a tight alleyway where, I presumed, the wagon would vanish inside
camouflaging spells as soon as he dealt with his team.

“Unhitch them animals, Kid, and get them over to the transient stable while I
straighten up here.”

Arguing with One-Eye gets to be a little like arguing with Nyueng Bao. He goes
completely deaf. He did so in this instance. He went about his business exactly
as though I was not there. In the interest of efficiency I took care of the
animals.

I believe I did a little grumbling about wishing Goblin was back.

That little toad of a wizard Goblin is One-Eye’s best friend and worst enemy. He
was so hard to find I thought, at first, that I was having trouble getting Smoke
to understand what I wanted to do. Then I tried going back to where I had seen
him last, in the river delta on the edge of Nyueng Bao country. My plan was to
follow him forward in time to where he was now. And that worked just fine till
Goblin’s ship entered a fog bank and never came out again.

Smoke could not find him.

It took me a while to comprehend that Smoke might have been primed to shy away
from what Goblin was doing. Maybe to keep One-Eye from finding out and
interfering. It would be just like the little shit to blow a whole operation
because he did not think before pulling some nasty practical joke on his friend.

I did some experimenting. Sure enough, Smoke had been given some special
instructions. The Old Man had not given up visiting him completely.

Once I knew that, I had little difficulty getting past Croaker’s safeguards. I
fear One-Eye would have had little more trouble.

I found Goblin standing on a sandy beach far down the uncharted coast of the
Shindai Kus, a terrible desert that fills a vast chunk of land between the
northern and southern regions of the Shadowlands. The impassable mountains
called the Dandha Presh only get shorter out there before they finally wade into
the ocean.

Goblin was looking out to sea. A ship rode her anchor inshore. Boats were
plunging in the surf. Goblin was yammering a litany of complaints. From the
faces of his companions it was safe to guess that they had heard it all before.

What the hell was Goblin doing out there on that bleak coast?

I dropped back in time to listen in from the beginning.

Goblin was tormented by hatreds. So what does the Captain do? He sends nobody
else but Goblin himself off to chart the unknown coast. Goblin hated swamps. So
naturally the first leg of the journey took him downriver through the delta,

which was one huge swamp two hundred miles across, without one decent channel,

obviously totally unfit for human habitation because only Nyueng Bao lived
there.

Goblin hated sea travel almost as much as One-Eye did. So what did he get after
cutting through the swamp, damned near building a canal to manage that? A
goddamn ocean with waves taller than any self respecting tree. He hated deserts.

So what did he find after he finally got his little fleet past the end of the
swampy coast? Country so barren scorpions and sand fleas could not make a living
there. You baked during the day and froze at night and you never got away from
the sand. The wind blew it into everything. He had sand in his boots right now .

. .

“I wasn’t born for this,” Goblin complained. “Nobody deserves this. Me less than
most. What did I ever do to the Old Man? All right, so maybe me and One-Eye
drink a little and get rowdy sometimes, but so what? It’s just youthful high
spirits if Sleepy does it.”

Naturally he overlooked the fact that when he and One-Eye get drunk they always
start squabbling and tend to begin throwing sloppily woven spells around,

busting things up far worse than Sleepy ever could.

“A man has to cut loose sometimes, you know what I mean? Nobody ever gets hurt,

do they?” That was not an exaggeration, that was an outright fabrication. “Hell,

in a world where there was any shred of justice I’d be retired somewhere where
the wine is sweet and the girls appreciate a man with experience. I gave the
Company the best centuries of my life.”

Goblin hated being in charge. That meant having to think and make decisions. And
it meant taking responsibility. Goblin hated all those things, too. He just
wanted to cruise through life doing only what was necessary to get by while
somebody else did the thinking and made the decisions.

Goblin hated hard work, too, and in this desert everybody was going to have to
bust ass to stay alive.

I had Smoke take me up high, with the eagles had any been able to survive out
there to see what had Goblin so excited.

He had not exaggerated about the desert.

Near the coast the Shindai Kus was all golden sand. The surf brought that in
from the deep. Continuous gales carried that sand inland, using it to scour the
skin off hills that, as they grew up and marched to the east, became the Dandha
Presh. On the coast few of the hills stood more than a hundred feet above the
sand. None of those showed the least sign of water erosion. It had not rained
there for a thousand years.

I started to descend. Goblin and two others were walking inland slowly, testing
the surface. Something exploded out of the sand ahead. An impossible something.

A monster that could not exist in this world, a devil thing the size of an
elephant but with more legs and hair than a tarantula plus some squidlike
tentacles and a scorpion’s tail thrown in for good measure. It staggered around
groggily. Obviously it had lain there a long time, awaiting the footsteps that
called it forth.

Goblin’s companions fled. The little wizard cursed and said, “Another thing I
hate is things that jump up out of the sand.” While the monster was still woozy
he hit it with some of his best stuff.

Something like a yard wide, a three legged stained glass throwing star appeared
in his hand. He used it like a throwing star. The monster bellowed in outrage as
the star clipped a couple tentacles and several legs off its right side. It
tried to charge Goblin, who elected for the better part of valor and hauled ass.

The monster sort of dragged itself around in a big circle, leaving ruts in the
golden sand. It lost interest in the men on the beach. For a while it tried to
put its severed limbs back on but the graft would not take. Finally, it just
sort of shuddered fatalistically and began to dig itself back down into the sand
with the limbs it still had.

“And another thing,” Goblin complained, “I hate the whole concept of the Shaded
Road.”

Shaded Road was some secret project kept from me because I had had no need to
know. I had overheard the name mentioned once or twice.

“I’m even beginning to wonder how much I like Croaker. This shit is pure
insanity. I hope the son of a bitch gets to spend his afterlife in a place like
this.”

No more need to check up on Goblin. He was fine. Like any good soldier, if he
was bitching he was perfectly all right.

I went back to Dejagore.

I came back into myself inside One-Eye’s wagon. I was starving and thirsty.

Smoke smelled bad. “One-Eye! I have to get something to eat. Where’s the
transients’ mess?”

The little black man stuck his disgusting hat into the wagon. I could barely
make out his equally ugly face. It must be getting dark out already.

“For us it’s in the citadel.”

“Isn’t that wonderful. Maybe I won’t eat the meat.” Mogaba and his cronies,

still on our side then, had sat out the siege in the citadel, dining on the
occasional hapless citizen of Jaicur.

“Pretend it’s chicken, it ain’t so bad,” One-Eye said, just to turn my stomach.

His nose wrinkled. “Smells in here.”

“I told you. You’d better get him cleaned up.”

He tried out his baleful stare. It did not work. I said, “You have to live with
him.”

I thought Croaker would want to catch up with Lady. They had not seen one
another for a while. But he seemed content to rest at Dejagore, communing with
his dark messengers more and more.

The crows troubled those of the Old Crew whose duties tied them to Dejagore.

Candles and Wheezer came to me complaining. I told them, “He’s the boss. I guess
he can like crows if he wants.” I studied Wheezer closely, unable to believe his
disease had not killed him yet. He coughed almost continuously now.

“It’s what the natives think about them,” Candles said. “They’re bad omens to
everybody but Stranglers.”

“I have a feeling they’ll be really bad omens for anybody who starts complaining
about them. Wheezer, you on permanent assignment here?”

The old man hacked his way around an affirmative answer.

“Good. I don’t think you ought to be in the field at this time of year.”

“What good will it do to leave me back here to die alone?”

“You’re going to outlive me, you stubborn old fart.”

“I’m part of this thing now. You people all the time tell us about our history
and now we got a chance to find the beginning place . . . I’m going to be
there.”

I nodded, accepting that. That was his right.

That made me reflect on how different we were from other mercenary bands I have
seen. There was almost no bullying or brutality among the men. Historically you
would not have gotten in if you were the sort of shit who made himself feel good
by causing pain to those around you. And if you did chances were you would not
survive long.

The history and culture and brotherhood stuff is laid on early and often and if
you survive long enough to give it a chance you usually go for it.

Croaker, of course, was the ultimate disciple of the Company thing. And he was
able to sell everyone else. Except Mogaba. And Mogaba’s main problem with the
brotherhood was that Mogaba was not in charge.

Not really relevant, except to indicate that we are not a band of misfit brutes.

We are a sensitive bunch of misfits who try to care about our brothers. Most of
the time.

One-Eye appeared and invited himself into the conversation, ignoring Wheezer
even though the old lunger was from his own homeland. “Hey, Kid, I just saw the
Troll trundling along Glimmers Like Dewdrops Street. You sure you don’t know
where Goblin is? I got to get those two together.”

The Troll is what her own people call Mother Gota behind her back. She is even
nastier to them than to us outsiders. We have an excuse. We were not born Nyueng
Bao.

I told One-Eye, “They made real good time considering the way she walks.” My
mother-in-law walks like she is terminally bowlegged and has no joints in her
legs, rolling like a fat merchantman in heavy seas.

The little black man slipped a glance sidelong at Thai Dei, who was handy as
always when not specifically told to stay away. Thai Dei showed signs of actual
emotion. One-Eye was hoping he was not offended to the point where he was going
to go flailing around . . .

I whispered, “Even he calls her the Troll sometimes. But do be more
circumspect.” Louder, I asked, “What about Uncle Doj?”

“Didn’t see him.”

“Thai Dei. You’d better find your mother.” Uncle Doj would find us. When it
suited him.

Everybody watched Thai Dei go. When he was out of earshot I murmured, “I never
missed her for an instant.” I hoped Thai Dei would find some way to prolong my
joy.

One-Eye snickered.

I said, “You ask me, she’s the perfect woman for you, not Goblin.”

“Bite your tongue, Kid.”

“I mean it.”

“You got a sick sense of humor. And you got the Old Man aggravated.”

“Huh? How?”

“Way he told it, you’re a couple days overdue with your standard reports.”

“Oh oh.” That was not entirely true but it was close. “I’ll get on it right
away.”

“Still wearing your bracelet?”

“Uh . . . ” I got it. “Yeah.”

“Good. You’ll need it.”

Candles and Wheezer had no idea what we were talking about. But Candles did
offer a good bit of advice as I departed. “Mind the crows,” he told me.

The crows did seem to be interested in me lately. I did not like that, but it
did make sense from a viewpoint other than my own. I was very close to Croaker.

Soulcatcher would want to keep an eye on me, too.

The old saw applied. Forewarned was forearmed.

I needed to catch up on events since last I had had time to spend with Smoke. I
should have been surveying the front instead of checking up on Goblin. Croaker
did not want to know about Goblin. Whatever the little shit was doing, it was so
secret nobody was supposed to know.

The string on my wrist allowed me to approach One-Eye’s wagon without becoming
disoriented or distracted, just as it had done in the maze of the Palace. The
crows following me, though, began to get confused while we were still a quarter
mile away. They lost me.

I wondered if that was all good. That sort of thing was sure to arouse
Soulcatcher’s curiosity if she had time free from her other schemes.

I wondered if Smoke’s attitude toward Soulcatcher would be different out here,

if I could get him to stalk her now that he was away from the Palace. Always,

while we were there, his soul stubbornly refused to play along whenever I tried
to spy on Lady’s mad sister.

I climbed into the wagon and made myself comfortable. It looked as though
One-Eye had been doing a little ghostwalking of his own. Food and water were
available in large quantities. I have to eat and drink a lot when I go out a
lot. Ghostwalking sucks the fluid and energy out of you fast. I can see the trap
there. The world Smoke walks is so comforting you could easily forget that you
have to come back to eat. You could end up just like Smoke.

After a long drink and a sugar bun I lay down on the smelly mat and closed my
eyes, reached out and took hold of Smoke’s soul. He seemed vaguely troubled.

Usually he is blandly empty.

I could find no proximate cause for his discomfort. Maybe One-Eye was not taking
care of his physical needs well enough. I had best check. After I ran my
circuit.

I went out and watched the Taglian brushfire crackle through feeble Shadowlander
defenses. The southerners were still groggy from the earthquake. Many places
their collapse was so swift it had no chance to become a rout.

Confused reports began to reach Mogaba at Charandaprash. He relayed them to
Longshadow. The Shadowmaster remained convinced that we could not manage a major
winter offensive, that this was just another of Croaker’s clever attempts to
direct attention away from what he was really doing.

Longshadow was getting his reports without help from Howler. The misshapen,

tortured little sorcerer seemed to be on vacation. I could not find him.

Narayan Singh and the Daughter of Night were holed up in a Strangler tagalong
encampment near Mogaba’s main force at Charandaprash. I am not sure why but the
child caught my interest. I began to roam back and forth in time, studying her.

I grew troubled. I had found something the Old Man needed to know.

His daughter had some way of scrying distant events, though not as intimately as
Smoke did. So far nobody, not even Singh, was listening to her, but they would
when Narayan realized that all her vague oracles hit their marks.

She seemed to go into a trance each time. I wanted to study that more closely
but Smoke rebelled. And this time I am not sure I blamed him. That child had an
aura about her that made you shudder and think of tombs and things best left
buried even out there in the emotionless space that Smoke walked.

Lady was far to the south of Dejagore, pushing herself and her soldiers. She
looked extremely haggard, though hardly showing her age since she makes One-Eye
look like a pup. Willow Swan, with the Royal Guards, was in her train, as was
the Prahbrindrah Drah, who claimed he had to be there in order to coordinate his
efforts with hers. I do not think he fooled anyone but himself. Lady was short
enough of temper that she did not put up with any moon eyed crap from anybody.

Swan was troubled. The Prince was baffled. I eavesdropped on several
conversations where they tried to reason out what was bothering Lady. They came
up with no ideas and Lady offered no clues herself. Once again she was content
to keep the bleakness and pain of her interior world to herself.

I supposed after a life as long as hers, as alone, as tormented when she was the
wife of the Dominator, coming out and petitioning the help of lesser beings
seemed pointless, though she was one of us maggots herself, now. More or less.

In defiance of all that was known by amateurs and experts alike, her lost powers
had been coming back for years. She was not the Lady who had built the empire up
north, so strong she kept ten like the Howler on leashes, as hounds to bay
before her and do her dark bidding, but she was strong enough to trouble Howler
and Longshadow and, I am sure, her sister Soulcatcher.

That was another wedge that had come between Croaker and Lady. The Old Man does
not trust the side of her that loves the darkness. She had been too intimate
with it for too long.

He fears losing her. I am afraid he is driving her away because he is not
dealing with his fears very well.

Lady was becoming the terror of all who resisted her advance, that was certain.

That advance was crueler than the earthquake wherever anyone fought back.

I found my Company brethren in the thick of the action everywhere, leading this
band or that. Their Nyueng Bao bodyguards stayed busy. Though they were weak
after years of being hunted down by Croaker and Lady, the Deceivers were aptly
named. Those who remained alive were the most skilled of their kind and they
shunned no opportunity to strike at the Company in honor of their goddess.

Though Mogaba had several thousand horsemen moving north they were not yet
involved in the fighting. Of Shadowlander forces in the regions being swamped
only Blade’s bunch had not been caught flatfooted. And Blade, after a couple of
brisk and for him very satisfactory encounters with regiments raised by Taglian
religious leaders, was making little effort to hold any territory. He was
falling back toward Charandaprash at a pace just fast enough to make certain our
forces did not get behind him.

His whole area of operations was becoming infested with the religious bands.

Ever since their falling out Croaker had been allowing the priests to go after
Blade virtually independent of the rest of the military. Blade hated priests and
never hid that fact. Working with the Shadowmaster gave him an opportunity to
express his hatred fully. In turn, the priesthoods were determined to silence
him forever.

The Old Man seemed perfectly happy to allow the priests, who had a strong
tradition of intrigue and interference in secular events, to spend their
treasure and energy and most devout followers trying to rid him of someone he
detested.

As he retreated Blade kept drawing those guys in and destroying them. For a
general with no formal training he did a great job of taking advantage of his
enemies’ blind spots.

All across the south forces from both sides drifted toward the Plain of
Charandaprash. The big show would take place there before much longer. Certainly
before winter turned.

I came and went with Smoke. Time passed, almost without meaning. The Old Man got
us onto the road again. I scarcely noticed. I was too busy with Smoke. Croaker
did not like me being in the wagon all the time but there was so much going on
so many places that he had to put up with it in order to get the information he
wanted. Though his attitude could shift with the breeze.

For a while I pretended to be sick, to give the crows and my in-laws a reason
for my being in the wagon all the time. Crows are stupid. They did not catch on.

But I think Uncle Doj got the idea there was something up almost before we
cleared Dejagore’s south gate.